In the noise and activity that followed, the arrival of the constable and the magistrate, the raised voices, the confusion of many questions, the tying of Balfour to a chair, Elizabeth took his hand for a moment before slipping from the room. It was a simple gesture, but it made all the difference to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Miss Bennet will hardly want to kiss you now, looking like that.”
Darcy was sprawled across his bed in his shirtsleeves, pressing a soaked flannel against his swollen lip, staring unseeing at the dimity bed hangings above him. Fitzwilliam was in a chair, his arms hanging down over its sides, and he sounded exhausted. Darcy pulled the cloth away and saw the cut was closed. He rolled the cloth into a ball and threw it at his cousin, but it only made it two-thirds of the way to the chair.
“I missed what you said to Mr Birch about the pawnbroker in Matlock Bath whilst I was speaking to the constable,” Darcy led, not in the mood for teasing now.
“The pawnbroker had the coral ring; it was just as you described. Mr Birch is sending a constable tomorrow to retrieve it and take his statement.” His cousin hesitated, and Darcy lifted his head enough to see Fitzwilliam rub his eyes. “The entry in the pledge book was ‘Bingley, residing at Pemberley House,’ but the description the pawnbroker gave was definitely Balfour.”
“He used a nom de guerre to fence his ill-gotten trinkets like some sort of spy?” Darcy cried.
Fitzwilliam lifted his eyes in disgust. “The pawnbroker will be called to testify, as will you, and those who found Carew and the candlestick.”
Darcy sat up all the way and leant against the headboard, toeing off his shoes and letting them fall to the floor. He had thought what he experienced the day after the storm was the weariest a man could feel. “It is possible that Miss Bennet may not need to testify. Mr Birch thinks his confession in the gunroom would be admissible in court. And the results of the coroner’s inquest and the ring in the pawnshop are the most critical evidence in proving that Carew was murdered.”
His cousin yawned. “He is returning in the morning to take official statements from all of us?”
Darcy nodded. “After he calls on Mr Carew and explains the sad truth behind his daughter’s death.” It was close to morning now; hopefully Mr Birch would call very late. “The coroner will examine the body, and the case will go to the assizes next Lent.” He paused. “Unless Balfour’s father can get him out of it.”
Fitzwilliam made a disagreeing sound. “The most his father might be able to influence is not having him executed. But if Balfour’s drawing a gun on you and Miss Bennet comes out in court...” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “I do not see how anyone could overlook that.”
Darcy had been utterly shocked when her gun went off and was grateful that he had not been too stunned to act during the brief moment Elizabeth had given him. He might have been seconds away from being murdered himself. Elizabeth must have primed the pistol and taken it before he and Balfour returned from Lambton. “Do you think she meant to follow me to the village, or was she waiting in the house to help me detain the prisoner?”
“I hardly know,” his cousin said, throwing up his hands. “I am just thankful your lady had a pistol. It was a good thing she startled Balfour. From what you said, I am convinced he would have shot you in his panic.”
“Balfour simply could not comprehend that I would turn him over to the authorities,” Darcy said slowly. “He showed no regret, noremorse for Molly Carew at all. He thought our friendship would triumph over all of his dishonesty, his violence.”
Fitzwilliam sat up in his chair and looked at him sharply. “Some friendship if he drew a gun on you!” He rubbed his eyes wearily. “I know it could have been Balfour or Utterson, but I was genuinely surprised when the pawnbroker described the man as tall with black hair and amber eyes rather than short with sandy-coloured hair.”
They had both wanted it to be Utterson because it would have been easier to bear, because although he had become a friend, he did not mean as much to them as did Balfour. Darcy glanced at the clock and saw it was close to four in the morning. All of the energy he had felt in the midst of the confrontation, and in realising he and Elizabeth were safe, was long gone.
“It was Balfour, but Utterson acted like he loathes me now too,” he said quietly.
Utterson had come down when he discovered Balfour was gone from his room to find a group of men by the gunroom in complete confusion. “Well, about that.” Fitzwilliam yawned again. “To begin with, whilst you talked with Mr Birch, Utterson said to me that Balfour was alternately rich and poor, but Utterson had assumed it was from spending beyond his means that Balfour was obliged to surrender to pawnbrokers the plunder he culled from the gaming table, not sundries from his friends’ homes,” Fitzwilliam added drily. “I sincerely doubt Utterson knew Balfour was stealing; his shock seemed genuine.”
“No one knew, and that adds to how frightening this entire situation is.” For all of Balfour’s love of money, Darcy and everyone else had still seen Balfour’s amiability and liveliness. He had faults, but nothing that hinted to the cruelty he had shown tonight. He had appeared the same as any other man, but was capable of such immoral acts. How did Balfour get to such a place in his own heart and mind where he could not only steal, but also strike a woman dead from fear of his thievery becoming known?
Darcy shook his head sadly. “I don’t understand, Fitzwilliam. It is not as though Balfour was addicted to the cards or the dice and could not help himself. He chose to spend to excess to make it appear as though he had unlimited funds and not a care in the world. He mighteven have asked his sister for funds, but he would rather everyone think him a wealthy man.” Darcy yawned. “But that does not explain why Utterson was so curt with me, even for him.”
“Ah, well.” Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “From what he said amidst all the activity, it seems that whilst Miss Bennet awaited you, she came upon Utterson and hinted to him that he was your first suspect. What he said to her about where he had been the day Carew died cleared him of suspicion as far as she was concerned.”
“He went to Lord Poole’s after all?”
Fitzwilliam smirked. “Well, he was there, but his attentions were exclusively focused on Poole’s daughter.” Darcy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Utterson was not pleased to have to admit that they are secretly engaged.”
“I am sure he was also not pleased to be accused of murdering Carew.” Darcy suspected Elizabeth bore the full brunt of Utterson’s impatience and irascibility. “That explains why he was angry with me; he is a short-tempered man.”
“Utterson does not have a mild or patient temper,” Fitzwilliam agreed, “but I think when the whole story came out, he felt for you.”
Darcy had nothing to say. Fitzwilliam was quiet for a long moment before he said, “Damn it, that was terrifying. I was in the stable yard, bone-tired from a day on horseback, and I heard the pistol shot.” Fitzwilliam squeezed his eyes shut before blowing out a breath. “I was afraid I would have to put you to rest with your forefathers.”
“I might have felt worse in the deadhouse than in the gunroom. The agony of that moment, seeing Balfour steal those items, seeing the depth of his heartless, unfeeling behaviour”—he sighed as the feelings washed over him again—“it was horrible.”
“Not as horrible as him aiming a pistol at your gut!”
“That was nothing to what I felt when he turned the gun on Elizabeth.” Darcy closed his eyes.
